


Trouble In the Heartland

by Chaoticartist



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, F/M, Falling In Love, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaoticartist/pseuds/Chaoticartist
Summary: Arthur Morgan runs into a strange lady in Valentine shortly after arriving in the Heartland. Months later, he runs into her again, only this time, she's been at the mercy of the O'Driscoll gang. Changed for the worse, she sets out on a path of revenge that could bring peril to the Van der Linde gang.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

_“Went off drinking with young Lenny. Thanks to my own peculiar genius for trouble when drunk, the evening did not go quite according to plan, but somehow neither of us got killed or arrested for murder. I mean, we got arrested of course, but not for murder, at least I don’t think it was for murder because they let us out. Whole thing is a bit of a blur. Somehow I don’t imagine that the saloon owner in Valentine likes me very much after the mayhem I-”_

A loud noise caused Arthur to jerk his head up just in time to see a blurry figure barreling towards him. He instinctively dropped his notebook and pencil, reaching out both arms to soften whatever blow was about to hit him. A loud _oof!_ came from the small woman he had just caught in his arms, preventing her from falling into the street.

“Christ!” she exclaimed automatically, turning to look up at him from under a large brimmed hat. Arthur felt heat rise in his cheeks as shocked passers-by exclaimed at the sentiment.

He looked back down at her, keeping a firm grip under her arm as she worked to steady herself, “You alright, miss?”

“Quite so,” she replied, “it’s these damned shoes. Heels are no match for knotty pine, even if it’s only-”

She trailed off, gazing up at him from under her hat. Her eyes met his, and he saw heat rise to her cheeks. The sight made his heart pound like a young boy, but he quickly squashed the feeling.

“One-inch,” she finished breathlessly, smoothing her rough skirt down out of nervousness. Arthur could see the curly brown hair peeking out from under her hat, which he noted seemed too large for her head.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard those words from a lady,” he said candidly, then quickly adding, “If you’ll pardon my saying so.”

She smirked slyly, “I don’t suppose I mind. That is, if you don't mind walking me across the street? Save me the peril of slipping in the mud.”

“Not at all,” he replied warily.

“Wonderful!”

She wove her arm under his, grabbing up a fistful of her skirt before spotting his notebook on the ground. “Oh!” she exclaimed, plucking it and the pencil off the ground, “You must’ve dropped these.”

Arthur gently took the items from her small, delicate hands, mumbling ‘thanks’ in reply. He was dumbfounded with the entire encounter. “Onward then!” she said excitedly.

They made their way across the street, finally arriving in front of the general store. The woman turned to him with a gentle smile, grabbing the brim of her hat and tipping it towards him as she said, “Thank you, sir.”

She turned to walk into the store.

“Arthur,” he said quickly, causing her to turn back towards him, “m-my name. It’s Arthur.”

She smiled, warm and inviting. Arthurs heart leapt again, causing him to feel a tenderness that he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Until we meet again, Arthur.”


	2. Chapter 2

_2 months later_

“Arthur!” Charles called out to him, tossing a small bottle of alcohol in his direction as he rummaged through the scattered bodies. They were somewhere North of Valentine clearing out an O’Driscoll hideout as Dutch had asked. He couldn’t think of exactly where, it all looked the same to him.

He raised a brow, “didn’t take you for a looter, Charles.”

“Desperate times,” his friend muttered, “We should be headed back soon.” Arthur nodded, looking at the black cloud looming overhead, swiftly making its way towards them. His gaze landed on the small shack just ahead of them. Shutters hung off the side and broken window pieces stuck out of the frame, but it never hurt to look.

“You check in there yet?”

“Not yet,” Charles replied, “probably nothing worth taking.”

Arthurs’ hand instinctively came to rest over his hip, “probably not.”

He stepped over a corpse as he made his way towards the front door, riddled with bullet holes. The heavy wooden door creaked slightly as he opened it. The smell of stale smoke, rotten food, and some other scent he didn’t care to name washed over him, causing his stomach to turn in knots. He walked over towards a table in the corner of the room. A small fold of cash lay next to a few cards and a whiskey glass. As he tucked it away into his pocket, he heard a small sound from the corner of the room. It was faint, but he made out the ragged breathing coming from a bed in the corner. His eyes had glazed over the figure before, but he hadn’t realized that a person was laying under the ragged blanket.

“You there,” he said sternly, “get up slow.”

The figure didn’t move or reply, but the steady rhythm of breath remained. Arthur slowly approached the form, despite knowing how stupid that might be. Long strands of dark, curly hair peeked out from under the blanket, but he couldn’t see a face. He kept one hand on his hip as the other reached towards the blanket.

“Hello-”

The figure lunged toward him as his hand brushed the cover, catching him off guard. His gun cleared its holster, but was knocked from his grip before he had a chance to aim it. Small, slender hands gripped his throat with a force that seemed almost inhuman - _especially for a woman_. Her hair was wild, flowing in every direction as she struggled to gain the upper hand. Arthur tried his best to pry her hands away, but failed. He felt himself gasping raggedly for air.

“S-stop,” he gasped. The woman's hands briefly loosened, but it was just enough time for him to knock her off balance. She fell to the floor, only briefly stunned, but just enough that Arthur could pin her down. She flailed wildly, struggling under his grip.

“No!” she screamed in agony, “Not again!” Her screams broke into sobs, and suddenly she was gasping for air. He noticed now that tears were streaming down her face, carving a small trail through the dried blood and dirt that marred it. Small cuts on her left cheek stood out to him now, as well as a yellowed bruise under her eye.

“Good God,” Arthur breathed in disbelief.

Suddenly, the door to the small cabin opened.

“Arthur-”

Charles stopped, looking down at them. A look of utter confusion passed across his face, and Arthur almost thought he saw his friend blush. It was then Arthur realized that the woman that he was holding down was wearing nothing except a tattered blouse.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Arthur scowled, “It ain’t what it looks like, she’s been hurt.”

“Clearly,” Charles replied angrily, “but what is she doing on the floor?”

The woman continued to struggle underneath him, only less violently now, “I tried to help her, she nearly choked the life out of me. Stop struggling!”

The woman broke into choked sobs again, flinching as he raised his voice. He felt guilt rising in his chest, not meaning to frighten the woman. He lifted his hands, not wanting to injure her further.

“You’re scaring her, Arthur,” Charles pointed, glancing around nervously, “we need to leave.” Arthur scoffed, “we can’t just leave her here, Charles.”

“Of course not, we’ll bring her.” The woman’s eyes widened unnaturally as she grabbed Arthurs collar, “No!” He placed his hands gently around hers, “it’s okay, we’re-”

“No!” she repeated again, her eyes begging, “No, no! No!”

Charles crossed the room, kneeling down and putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder, “calm down, we’re not going to hurt you.” Her breathing slowed, but her eyes stayed focused on Charles. Arthur stood up, taking off his coat and placing it around her shoulders. She flinched, edging away from him but accepting the offering.

“Can you walk?” Charles asked softly. She glanced between the both of them for a few moments before nodding reluctantly. Arthur noticed she was still shaking as he looped his arm under her own, gently helping her to her feet. Both men helped her outside of the small cabin, watching her intently as she squinted in the sunlight, breathing in the fresh air.

“I’ll get the horses,” Charles called. Arthur stood with the woman, still holding her arm. He could feel her leaning on him more and more as they stood.

She sighed deeply, “I’m tired.”

Arthur could hear the trembling in her voice, and the crushing weight of sympathy felt heavy on his heart. “You’ll have plenty of time to rest once we get back to camp,” he assured her. She said nothing, only gazing into the trees overhead with a look of worry.

He laid a hand on her arm gently. “You won’t be harmed there.” She held his gaze for a moment, looking away as her eyes began to water, but stayed silent. He watched the breeze flow gently through her hair, admiring the large tendrils as they curled around her face.

Charles returned with their horses a few moments later, passing Arthur a pair of reins, “I’ll ride ahead, make sure there aren’t any O’Driscolls scouting the roads.” Arthur nodded in agreement, helping the woman onto his horse before mounting up behind her. “Meet us back at camp?” he asked. Charles nodded, “I’ll signal you if there’s any trouble.”

He turned to depart, calling behind him as he went, “avoid town. You don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Arthur let out a gruff sound that was normally the default when he wasn’t sure what to say. The both of them watched Charles ride away, disappearing into the trees. Arthur nudged his horse onward, leaving the cabin behind them. He felt the woman shift behind him slightly, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly.

“H-how,” she began raggedly, clearing her throat before continuing, “how far is your camp?”

“Not far,” he replied, “we should be there before dark.” She stayed silent as they rode on, finally arriving on the road. He wanted to ask, but deep down he knew what had happened to her. It was another reason the O’Driscolls were so infamous, only this woman hadn’t ended up dead. Arthur wondered if she was lucky or unlucky in that regard. She laid her head against his back, falling asleep as they made their way down the road, towards camp.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suggested soundtrack for this chapter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mmOy6lwGNQ4&t=2446s

A storm was rolling in. As Arthur sat against a tree on the outside of camp, he could hear the distant rumble. Large, black clouds hung over the western sky, slowly making their way across Flat Iron Lake. Birds flew overhead, shaken from their branches by the increasingly violent wind. He instinctively produced his sketchbook, beginning to shade the small areas of sky and water, squinting to make out the town of Blackwater in the distance. His mind wandered back to the woman sleeping in his tent.

It had been two days since he and Charles had rescued her. After they made it back to camp, Grimshaw had taken it upon herself to spirit the woman away, rambling about filth and cleanliness and whatnot. She had been washed and fed before he generously offered his tent while they arranged a place for her. Arthur had regretted that decision, seeing as how she’d been asleep for two days. He hadn’t dared to try and retrieve a set of clean clothes, not wanting to disturb her. Even so, he was beginning to smell worse than Pearsons’ cooking. The son of a bitch, Micah, had referred to him as a ‘walking carcass’. 

“ _ Shit!”  _ Arthur cursed, dabbing at the small droplets of rain that marred his page. 

“Language.”

He turned his head, watching Grimshaw peer over his shoulder, arms crossed in concentration, “Since when do you care what comes out of my mouth?”

Her eyes narrowed, “We have a child in this camp. He’s the only one of us who may still turn out to be a decent gentleman.”

“I wouldn’t hold out any hope,” he scoffed, “seeing as he’s bein’ raised in a den of outlaws and criminals.”

“There’s a difference?” Grimshaw asked slyly. 

Arthur eyed he warily for a moment, “did you need something?”

She uncrossed her arms, stepping in front of him, “As a matter of fact I did.”

“That girl you brought into camp. I don’t think I have to tell you she’s been hurt.” Arthur gruffed his usual non-verbal reply. She continued, turning to look towards the arriving storm, “she’s hardly spoken to me. Just sits there with a distant look in her eye. I took some blankets and food to her last night and she did something rather odd.”

“What’s that?” he asked cautiously.

Grimshaw turned to him, “she was calling your name in her sleep, Arthur.”

He slapped his sketchbook closed, running a hand through his hair, “I thought she looked familiar.”

“Elaborate.” 

Arthur sighed, “I ran into a girl back in Valentine. I walked her across the street and I never saw her again.”

“Clearly never is a loose term to you,” she chastised, “Why does she know your name?”

“We were acquainted for a matter of ten minutes,” he hissed, “It’s not like I divulged any secret information.”

Grimshaw’s brow furrowed in concentration, “Maybe. But you need to speak to her. She’s in a frail state now and could do with a familiar face.”

Arthur stood up, almost tripping after Grimshaw as she began to walk away dismissively, “How am I supposed to bring her any sort of comfort after what she’s been through?”

The old woman turned on him, “maybe it’s not about comfort. Maybe it’s about being a source of familiarity.”

Arthur watched her walk away, muttering under his breath, “ _ hell.” _

*************************************************************************************************************

The storm had rolled in, spilling rain over the camp. Even though it was dark, the bright flashes of lightning lit the small tents sprawled over the bankside. Arthur was huddled under John’s tent, staring over at his own. He longed for his bed, despite its stiff, creaky nature. He watched the closed flaps of the tent sway in the wind, remembering he had a small chair in the corner of his shelter. 

He hugged his coat closer to him as he crossed the camp briskly. Damn it, he was  _ going  _ to get some fresh clothes. Then, he could fall asleep in the corner, be gone by morning, and the woman would be none the wiser. He arrived at his tent, inhaling deeply before entering. 

It was noticeably warmer, and drier, than it had been outside. The small lantern on the tableside was lit, but the wick produced scarcely any light. The figure on his cot was fast asleep, slowly breathing despite the thunderous roar right outside the tent. 

Arthur spotted the small trunk of clothes he kept under his bed. He knelt down, gently opening it and pulling a shirt out. Despite his best effort, the lid still let out a shrill  _ creeeeak!  _ He swore silently, glancing up at the figure buried under the blankets. She shifted slightly, breathing out heavily before settling back into sleep. 

He let out a shaky breath before standing up and turning towards the table. He turned the small key on the lamp, snuffing the wick out entirely before turning away to change into a fresh shirt. Arthur struggled to see in the dark, helped only slightly by the flashes of lightning that peeked into the tent. His fingers worked desperately to undo the buttons, swiftly undoing to top set. 

A small creak sounded behind him, and Arthur turned to see the woman standing behind him. He jumped slightly as she put a warm, slender hand on his arm. She looked up at him in the darkness, slowly undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt.

“Wh-”

She let out a long, strange, shushing noise, slowly edging the shirt off of his shoulders. He stood frozen in disbelief, not knowing what to do. She pulled the new shirt gently out of his hands, slowly dressing him. As the lightning boomed, he saw her large, glazed eyes looking up towards him. They almost looked black in the light, somehow finding his own even in complete darkness. Arthur shivered, not understanding what was happening or if he should let it continue. 

Finally, her small fingers found the buttons of his new shirt, gently fastening them one by one. He didn’t understand how she could do that in complete darkness, but how she could do it while staring at him was unnerving. She clasped the last button, smoothing the collar flat on his neck. Her fingers were ice cold as they brushed against him. She grabbed both of his hands, pressing his soiled shirt into them before turning and climbing back onto the small, creaky bunk. 

Arthur stood still, not sure of what had happened. It had happened so slowly, yet so painfully quick. A woman hadn’t touched him that way in too many years. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like. 

He shook his head of the moment, slowly sitting down in the small chair behind him. He watched the women's breathing slowly rise and fall, as if she had never woken up in the first place. He let his head lull back as he finally closed his eyes, watching the lightning behind his eyelids, still clutching the shirt in his hands.


End file.
